Nekro's Mancy
by LordsBecca
Summary: Nekro's Mancy. Corpse's Prophecy. After learning how to become a Necromancer, Voldemort decides to test his new Dead Soldiers. And when the result is perfect, ther is nothing stopping him from destorying Hogwarts--and Harry.
1. Prologue

Title: Nekro's Mancy  
  
Author: Becca  
  
E-mail: lordsbecca@yahoo.com  
  
Rating: Going on Worst-Case-Scenario here... R for violence and language.  
  
Category: Horror  
  
Archive: C-Could you let me know first? Archiving makes me feel splendiferous.  
  
Pairings: Undetermined.... none planned, but my romantic side may take over a few times ;)  
  
Disclaimer: Technically, everyone belongs to WB, Scholastic, and JK. But how's this: until the fifth book and second movie comes out, the characters will be chillin' with me. It's either with me, or the unemployment office. *preens*  
  
Summary: There is an Irish legend that speaks of a cauldron that brings the dead to a zombie-like life. The cauldron can take anything from a body part to a full body and create a soldier out of it. Now Voldemort wants the cauldron to create an army of Dead Warriors, and when he gets it, nothing can stop him from winning the final battle....  
  
Thank You: Tons of thanks to Mara! Oooh, I love you! And lots of thanks to, once again, Allan and Elizabeth Kronzek, for their "The Sorcerer's Companion" book. I love it!  
  
.:.  
  
Prologue  
  
Bran held on to the black cauldron tightly, still weary of the idea the king had just proposed. Give up his cauldron? The one thing that still allowed him power? The idea was unnerving. He would be losing everything that kept him important. If he turned in this cauldron.... Then he would help Ireland win any war it came across. The king had promised that all credit would be given to him....  
  
Sighing, he took one last look at the cauldron before placing it in front of the king, who grinned in triumph. Bran bowed and said, "Your Highness, it would be my honor to allow Ireland to gain the power it needs to pull ahead of England."  
  
"Excellent," the king said greedily, not listening to a word Bran had said. His beady eyes glared at the large pot, hungry for its power. With a swish of his hand, the guards suddenly seized Bran and pulled him out of the king's sight. Bran cursed and called out to the king, but was ignored.  
  
"Sir Sagamore!" the king called. It took only a moment for the knight to appear in front of the throne, his body kneeled into a low bow.  
  
"My Lord," Sagamore proclaimed, his voice strong and pure, "What do you wish?"  
  
The king's famous sneer spread across his face. "Take the cauldron to the cemetery. You know what to do."  
  
Nodding, Sagamore asked, "How many, Your Highness?"  
  
"Four hundred to begin with. I want the knight's cemetery used first, then go to the lower class civilians. Males only. If this army works, than we shall recruit more."  
  
"Of course, Your Majesty," Sagamore replied.  
  
The king flicked his writs. "Off with you! Take as many soldiers with you as needed. I want our new army under control. If word gets out about this.... And don't let any of the townsfolk see them!"  
  
"Yes, Sir. As you wish."  
  
"Be gone."  
  
Sagamore bowed once more and left, the cauldron in hand.  
  
***  
  
"He's nuts, I tell ya!" Stephan growled as he dug further into the dirt. "He's off 'is 'ocker."  
  
"Quiet," Sagamore snapped, "or I'll report you for treason."  
  
Stephan stopped shoveling and stared at Sagamore. "You ain't serious 'bout this, is ya? We are diggin' up bodies, puttin' 'em into a pot, and expectin' solider to come outta it! Well, 'scuse me for thinkin' dat the Oh- Might-King has gone too far!"  
  
"I don't like it either," Sagamore snarled, his shovel hitting something hard. "Here. Help me pull out the casket."  
  
Rolling his eyes, Stephan helped Sagamore pull the poorly built and rotting casket out, and opened it. Inside they found a man. His skin was gray, and cheeks were sullen. His eyes had disappeared, and maggots had eaten their way through the clothes.  
  
"Ugh..." Stephan winced. "I swea', get me somefin' to plug up my nose!"  
  
The sound of metal being rubbed together, and suddenly, there was a sword against Stephan's throat. Sagamore's eyes seemed to burn holes into the complaining Irish man, but Stephan did not know this: his eyes were tightly shut.  
  
"Be QUIET!" Sagamore shouted, his voice echoing off the rolling green hills of Ireland. "You should be proud to serve your country."  
  
Stephan pulled up enough courage to argue back, "Oh right! I'm obvi'sly servin' my country proudly! I'm covered in filth, supposedly gonna bring back da dead.... ARGH!"  
  
The sword had moved only a few inches until it broke through to the other side of his neck. Stephan's eyes were wide, terror filling them. Then suddenly, the sparkle was gone and his body went completely limp. The blood drained quickly from his jugular vein. Sagamore put a foot on top of Stephan's lifeless body as he pulled his sword out. He then turned to the other soldiers who stared at him.  
  
"Put him with the others. We can put him in the cauldron, too."  
  
With no hesitation, the closest two soldiers picked up Stephan's body and carried him to the pile of other bodies they had collected, his fresh skin and smell clashing with the other decaying bodies.  
  
Sagamore looked beyond the pile of bodies and smiled. "Beautiful day, isn't it?"  
  
The other soldiers nodded in agreement, and they all returned to their labor. 


	2. Roscommon

Chapter One ~ Roscommon  
  
He walked around, his followers in a circle surrounding him. His mind raced as they all stared at him, waiting for their next move. But he knew he had nothing. He had played this game before: pretend to act important, and they would stay true. He could not let them know that he was clueless....  
  
"I have an idea..." Voldemort lied, stopping his incessant pacing, "...but why don't I hear from everyone else? Does anyone have an idea they would like to share?"  
  
The hooded figures eyed each other nervously, unsure of what to do. Some had decided to remain silent, others had no clue what was going on, and yet someone else stepped forward....  
  
"My Master," Lucius Malfoy began, "I have been investigating a legend that was told to my son at school, and it seems as if it could be some use to us."  
  
The red-eyed figure turned towards Lucius. "I'm listening...but if you end up wasting my time..."  
  
Lucius shook his head. "Certainly not, sir! This could be quite convenient for us." He stood up straighter and began. "It is said that there is a cauldron which can bring the dead back to life. The king of Ireland supposedly used this as an advantage when it came to his army. It is said that the army was impossible to conquer, because new warriors could be made from the fallen."  
  
Voldemort stared into Lucius' eyes. "It is a legend. How do we know--"  
  
"If you please, Master, I have done some research and.... It is rumored that the cauldron is in the Roscommon Castle, in Ireland. The castle is falling apart, but if we could send some men to investigate--"  
  
"Of course," Voldemort said, excitement rising. "Take as many men as you'd like."  
  
Lucius smiled and bowed, and was about to show appreciation to his Master, when Voldemort was suddenly up against his nose saying, "But if you come back empty handed, you'll be the first to die."  
  
Gulping, Lucius nodded nervously and said, "Of course, my Master. I refuse to fail you."  
  
Smirking, Voldemort replied. "Good."  
  
***  
  
"This is it?" Nott asked, his left eyebrow raised. "Kind of...nothing, isn't it?"  
  
Falling apart did not begin to describe the castle. It was in basic ruins: the top half of the outer walls were destroyed, and long vines wrapped some of the remaining stone like a blanket. The grass surrounding the small but once luxurious castle was lush, yet wet and soaked from the early morning rain.  
  
Lucius led the two other men into the castle. They each bent down under the opening hole, which was slightly caved in. Each man ran his hands down the cold stone, feeling the texture of the forgotten castle. While Nott found nothing spectacular about the old fort, Lucius found it exciting and beautiful, and Crabbe shook with fright at the mere thought of snakes.  
  
"This way," Lucius whispered. He had no reason to speak so softly, but his subconscious told him to not disturb the silence that swallowed the three men. Lucius led them forward, walking through dried mud and growing weeds that were clearly taking over the historic building.  
  
"According to some articles I was reading," Lucius told them as they walked further into the castle, "there was a terrible battle on these grounds. A king...not exactly sure which one...ran to this castle for protection from England, but was found. Apparently, this is where he used the cauldron to his advantage, and created the dead army that never died."  
  
"What horse shit," Nott muttered, but seized his insults after a firm glare from Lucius.  
  
"Er...Lucius?" Crabbe suddenly spoke up, "What's that?" He was pointing to the back of what looked like an old man. He was sitting on what appeared to be bones and skulls. In his hand seemed to be a long walking stick, topped with a metal spike. His long, wispy gray hair fell down past his waist, and on top of his head, was a small red hat.  
  
"A Red Cap!" Lucius hissed, stopping in his tracks. "Be quiet!" Slowly, Lucius reached into a pocket and pulled out a small book, just as the Red Cap turned to face them. He grinned evilly, his protruding yellow teeth growing more visible as the smile grew bigger.  
  
Slowly the creature stood, and pulled the stick into an attack position. Crabbe squeaked and dashed behind Nott, who was looking a tad greener than usual, but Lucius suddenly proclaimed, " 'In the beginning, when God created the heavens and the earth, the earth was a formless wasteland, and darkness covered the abyss, while a mighty wind swept over the waters.' "  
  
The Red Cap looked confused for a second, but Lucius moved forward in the book and recited, " 'While Joshua was near Jericho, he raised his eyes and saw one who stood facing him, drawn sword in hand.' "  
  
Suddenly, a loud and furious shriek filled the air, and the Red Cap vanished, leaving in its place one of its yellow teeth. Lucius smiled, closed the book, patted it lovingly, and placed it back into his cloak pocket.  
  
Nott and Crabbe stared at him, stunned.  
  
"The Holy Bible," Lucius said. "Not only shall it save you from hell, but Red Caps as well. They cannot live when they hear the words of the Bible."  
  
Still shaken and impressed, Nott no longer criticized Lucius, and Crabbe felt a tad safer that he was with him.  
  
They reached stairs, the stone work clearly unsafe to climb. Crabbe asked if they'd be going up, but Lucius shook his head as he stared up the winding steps.  
  
"No," he said, "the cauldron is supposedly in the dungeons."  
  
Crabbe gulped, thinking that there was no way the dungeons could be any better than where they already were, but Nott agreed and said, "Sounds reasonable."  
  
"Good," said Lucius. "I believe it is this way."  
  
They did not need to go much further. With the Irish sun beating down on them through the non-existent roof, Lucius peered anxiously down the stairs to the dungeons.  
  
"And who would like to go first?" Lucius asked, looking at the heavy-set Crabbe and muscular, surly Nott. He then took a look at his own leaner, thin body and decided that he was the safest bet. "Fine, you wankers," Lucius uttered, "I'll go down first."  
  
"Lucius?" Nott started, "Why don't you just Apperate down? Then you don't have to worry about unsteady steps."  
  
Staring at him, Lucius suddenly beamed a smile. "Of course!" he exclaimed, excited he would not be risking his life down the dangerous looking stairs. "Brilliant, Nott, brilliant!"  
  
With a flash he was gone and in the dungeons, the cold air wrapping around him. He took out his wand and uttered, "Lumos!", lighting part of the dark dungeons.  
  
Chains came out of the individual cells where prisoners had been kept, and it was clear that some prisoners had never been capable of escaping. Skeletons were still shackled to the wall, some with their heavy skull on the floor next to their legs. Lucius sneered at them, knowing that they had all been Muggles, so there was no loss.  
  
When he had gotten through half of the lower dungeons, he began to worry that he was not going to find the cauldron. *If I don't show up with that cauldron...* he thought to himself, but quickly dismissed the notion when his eyes spotted a closed door.  
  
His greedy sneer suddenly took over his face as he advanced on the door, wand in hand and eyes dancing. Prepared to use the Alohomora charm, he was surprised when he found the door unlocked. Creaking only slightly, Lucius kept his eyes open for anything that could be dangerous, but found nothing.  
  
Only a cauldron.  
  
Completely black, Lucius found it was made of rod iron, and quite heavy. He smiled as he whispered, "Wingardium Leviosa!" and the cauldron rose into the air, seeming to be completely weightless.  
  
He ran to almost all the way to the stairs when he realized he should just Apperate. He was then suddenly with the two other Death Eater, both who stared in awe at the cauldron.  
  
"It's real!" Nott exclaimed. "I thought this was going to be a wild goose chase..."  
  
"Blimey," Crabbe smiled, "I can't believe it!"  
  
Lucius grinned proudly. "We were not searching for geese, Nott. Have more confidence in me!"  
  
Nott was opening his mouth, gaping like a fish. "I must admit...I didn't think we'd find it...but...wow!"  
  
"Yes," Lucius agreed, "but we should not stay much longer. Our Master will be wanting us to return as quickly as possible. Shall we Apperate?"  
  
He did not need to ask again. The three had suddenly disappeared, leaving Roscommon empty once again. 


End file.
